Native Lands
E
Eric Cockrell
0
Altın Yaprak
We who walk
On the bones of
The Elders...
On the muted cries
Of the children.
On the screams of the women,
Raped, and butchered.
On the hides of the buffalo,
The wings of the crows...
Cannot speak, but for grieving.
Cannot pray, but for blood.
Cannot breathe, but for the wind...
Calling, for redemption!
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